Even in heavenly beaches it might rain (3/3)

There, in that beach in Ilha Grande, sitting down under the rain, the man I just met tells me his story:

‘I am from New York. A long time ago, I believed I had everything, that I was completely happy.

Even in heavenly beaches it might rain (2/3)

After several hours of trip, I arrive to Vila do Abrão by ferry. I find my mother in the crowd, and she gives me a big hug.

We go to the pousada (guesthouse, inn). We pass in front of a small church, turn to the right, and take a street perpendicular to the sea. There is no pavement, it is a earth path with pousadas in both sides, and palm trees. I feel like in a film, it is hard to believe that this is the place where my mother lives.

Even in heavenly beaches it might rain (1/3)

 I thought I knew her well. After all, we had lived together for a long time. But one day, all of a sudden, she announced me that she was leaving to a foreign country. To a foreign country! She, who had always lived in the same neighborhood in Barcelona. I was completely in shock.

‘Yeah... maybe you’re right; a change might be good for you. And where would you go?’

‘...’

‘To Vila do Abrão? Ah ok. And where is this, in Portugal?’

‘...’

‘An island in Brazil? But, mother... are you sure?’